


Let The Thing Be Destroyed

by RueRambunctious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Boarding School, First Kiss, Hufflepuff Sebastian, Hufflepuff/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, It's good enough for Deadpool, M/M, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Period-Typical Homophobia, Potterlock, Punk Sebastian Moran, Slytherin Jim, Swearing, Timey-Wimey, Yes Really, baby gays
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25227202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RueRambunctious/pseuds/RueRambunctious
Summary: One of the theorised origins of the word 'abracadabra' is the Aramaic phrase 'avra kadavra'. Both avra kadavra and avada kedavra function as spells whose essence means 'let the thing be destroyed'. However, the former was used for healing.Sebastian Moran and Jim Moriarty are half-bloods. They are both in need of healing, and have a shared appetite for destruction.
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	1. An Unfriendly Befriending Method

“Relax; your wand is replaceable. If you're a good boy I might even give it back.”

Sebastian Moran looked up from the foot of the boy currently withholding his most precious object. The boy was older than him, but did not much look it. Sebastian was a first year, and was big for his age, whilst this boy looked undernourished. He was _shorter_ than Seb.

And yet his posture was of lazy confidence and a playful sort of cruelty. This older, smaller boy was certain that he had the upper hand, and it amused him. He had a silver and white tie, unlike Sebastian, and Seb had already heard plenty warnings that the students of Slytherin House were mean.

Sebastian didn't wholly mind mean, but he definitely wanted to know why this Slytherin didn't seem to find him much of a threat. Were they all so focused on blood purity and magic that this older lad didn't think Seb would simply punch him in the face?

Sebastian rolled his jaw. “I intend to keep it, if that's all the same to you. Be a good boy how?”

“Amuse me,” the Slytherin said.

Seb raised his brow. “I'm not a performing animal just because I'm a half-blood, you prick.”

The other boy blinked slowly. “Well that's rather _rude_ ,” he drawled, and shifted his weight on Sebastian's wand so it audibly scratchesd over the uneven flagstone underfoot. “Your lack of breeding is neither here nor there to me, other than your atrocious manners. _You're a Hufflepuff_ : being accommodating and friendly is what you're _supposed_ to be.”

“I'm not a very good Hufflepuff,” Sebastian admitted reluctantly. He was brave and reckless like any headstrong Gryffindor, but the Sorting Hat had insisted he was loyal above all else, so 'Puff he was. Never mind the fact that Seb had never been especially loyal to anyone or anything in his entire life. He'd argued that too, but the hat said he'd grow into it.

Sebastian supposed he didn't really mind. Gryffindor with its allegedly heroic and noble sorts seemed like a house his father might approve of, what with the man's medals and war stories, and Seb hated the thought of ever making the cunt proud. Hufflepuff seemed to be the house of the leftovers, and Seb liked that.

“Evidently,” the Slytherin boy said. He looked Sebastian up and down. “So do you want to be my friend or not?”

“Taking my wand and threatening to break it isn't very friendly,” Seb pointed out.

“I'm not threatening to break the stupid thing,” Jim says. “You flinched when you thought it would break, and I told you it didn't matter.”

“It does matter,” Seb argued indignantly. “My _magic_ -”

“Is a part of you, whether you have a wand or not,” the Slytherin countered.

“Well I'm getting a bit old for accidental magic,” Sebastian said a little tightly. He was; his mother had told him often enough.

“And yet this place won't bother teaching you wandless magic for years, if at all,” the Slytherin said.

“So I'd like my wand back, _please_ ,” Seb said dryly.

The Slytherin boy lifted his foot from Sebastian's wand, murmured something, and in an instant it was in the boy's hand. Seb reached to snatch for it, _he was bigger and stronger than this brat_ after all, but the Slytherin smirked and made a chiding noise. The wand disappeared from his hand.

Sebastian made a noise of alarm, then grit his teeth and growled warningly.

“I _told_ you; you don't need it,” the other boy said.

“Bring it back!” Sebastian snapped.

“ _If_ you agree,” the Slytherin said.

“To what?” Seb exclaimed.

“You are slow, aren't you? I should have known that when I saw you try to leap the stairs when they were moving,” the smaller boy sighed. “Let me make it simple: you agree to be my friend; I give you your precious stick of wood back.”

“And what if I lie?” Sebastian scoffed.

“Then I'll hex you,” the other boy said simply.

Seb glowered at him. “Fine.” He thrust out his hand. “We're friends. Gimme my wand.”

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. His lips moved, the words barely audible, and Sebastian's wand rematerialised in his hand. He held it out.

Somehow, that was it. The pair slowly became pally after that. Sebastian asked why his friendship was desirable, and the smaller boy shrugged and pointed out Seb's stature (impressive even amongst teenagers with access to charms and potions) and the loyalty Hufflepuffs are known for.

The Slytherin was impressive in a duel, and terribly quick-witted, but his bird-like build did not much intimidate his peers, Seb found out. The other boy was a half-blood too, and in the house that most attracted blood-supremacists, that was not easy.

The boy's name was Jim Moriarty. Unlike Sebastian, the little Slytherin did not come from wealth, but their blood status and inability to quite fit in with their house mates were significant enough things to have in common at first. They both had unhappy family lives, so there was that too. And they both needed to study hard if they were ever going to escape from everything, so they could while away many evenings avoiding their peers and educating themselves in quiet solidarity.

Not that they were alike, exactly. They were both clever and a little bit unkind, but Jim was clever and used magic as instinctively as Sebastian breathed, and Seb, well, Seb was used to using his fists or his looks to solve his problems.

Jim rarely resorted to using his looks, unless he was pretending to be defenceless, but he was pleasant enough to look at, Sebastian thought. The Slytherin could probably do with eating more (Jim stayed skinny even though the tables in the Great Hall groaned under the enormous weight of so much food every mealtime) but there was something appealing about Jim's waifish, almost pixie-like frame. Jim had dark hair slicked back in the style of a number of the purebloods, and eerily pale skin that showed all his veins and sparse constellation of freckles. Jim's big, dark, otherworldly eyes that took up too much of his face and should have made the boy look cute but never did because of the fucking terrifyingly shrewd way Jim's gaze captured and analysed everything. Sebastian liked the way Jim's eyes upon him could at times make him shiver.

Jim was good at unnerving people, but he didn't make other people seem to quiver the way Seb did. They thought he was any manner of things, depending on who you asked and how Jim was inclined to behave (or not) on any given day. It was a toss-up whether Jim would be charming or acerbic, and he tended to remain polite with anything like consistency to those he had uses for or found intriguing for whatever reason. Not that either quality necessitated the Slytherin's less brittle personality: Jim could make being interesting to him a vendetta for utter harassment, and he was mocking and acidic to Seb easily as often as he was peaceable or pleasant. 

Sebastian had thought that he himself was fickle until he met Jim. The transience of the smaller lad's moods were disorientating at best. Still, there was something exhilarating about being in the eye of Jim's stormy emotions. Seb supposed this was because he was scrappy and enjoyed having the excuse to bash people who Jim had gleefully rubbed up the wrong way, but that wasn't quite everything. Whenever Jim saw fit to turn his dark gaze - eyes flashing with what purported to be fury – at Sebastian in their full and frightening glory, there was always a flip and tightness within Seb's torso that felt like the thrill before a good fight, but not quite.

Jim was good at making Seb feel things, with surges of temper not being the least amongst them. Jim would see Sebastian's clenched fists and keep pushing anyway, and sometimes (less often than would happen with _anyone_ else) Seb would snatch Jim by his robes. Sometimes Jim would not react, even to roll his eyes, and Sebastian would possibly lift the Slytherin up by his robes and dangle him just for a response. Other times Jim would sting Seb with a hex before they even touched, and on rare occasions Jim would jab his wand into Sebastian's thick throat seemingly just for the fun of it.

Jim would also snatch at Seb's robes sometimes, not in threat (although that was often too) but to drag Seb this way or that behind a suit of armour or tapestry or towards a particular staircase or hidden passageway. Sebastian was sometimes struck with the knowledge that Jim could not possibly hope to actually yank Seb's much more considerable bulk this way or that without Seb's absolute willingness, but that never seemed to waver Jim's absolute confidence in the way his pale, little hand would dart out confidently.

Jim was confident in many things. Sebastian quickly found that the other boy was skilled in magic beyond his years, although some classes evidently required more effort than others; Jim had incinerated, then sulkily restored, certain textbooks more than once. Jim also had a more thorough knowledge of the castle than any second year had any right to have.

Sebastian had asked once what out-of-bounds area Jim had explored first, and a funny look had come over the dark-haired boy's face before Jim shrugged and said, “The kitchens.”

There was never anything other than an overabundance of food presented in the Great Hall at mealtimes. Still, Sebastian had known Jim was not lying: for all Seb had regularly seen Jim move food around his plate without consuming it, Jim's brittle build made clear that Jim's childhood was not one of plenty.

The kitchens were near the Hufflepuff common rooms, and Seb was a growing boy, so an increasing familiarity with the place was not unwelcome. However, the kitchens were peopled by hundreds (perhaps thousands) of peculiar beings Jim explained to be House Elves, and they took some time for Sebastian to get used to. He'd grown up with servants (many appallingly treated by his father) but his mother had never been able to bring any of her family elves to live in Moran Manor with them, so other than a few fuzzy memories of visiting his grandparents in France Sebastian was unfamiliar with the uncanny creatures. 

Sebastian was woefully underprepared for a lot of commonplace aspects of ordinary wizarding life. He was a half-blood, and from a privileged muggle family, but his father had seen to it that Sebastian was more equipped for the muggle than the magical world.

Jim was an orphan, and used to being self-reliant. He saw fit to thoroughly educate himself on magical matters (how could he not, when living in the snake pit down in the castle's dungeons?) and was generous enough to share much of that knowledge with Seb. Sometimes Jim wasn't even a prick about it.

Seb was good at a great many things, not that that was often clear from the dry tone with which Jim usually imparted some failing or other he had noted in Sebastian's understanding of the world around them. In the first year of Hogwarts Seb's confidence endured quite a number of novel troughs and peaks.

He was used to being considered intelligent and sporty, with his temper and tendency to both restlessness and recklessness to be his most notable flaws. In Hogwarts, well… things were different. Sebastian's control of his magic did not equal his (larger) magical power, which made things difficult, and as a typically bright student he was not experienced in asking for much help. There was also the matter of being an oddity in the house of misfits: he wasn't the warm, empathetic sweetheart people expected of Hufflepuff, so they were disinclined to disregard his failings as typical 'Puff goofiness.

It didn't help that the only sport Hogwarts invested any interest in was quidditch, which was vastly unlike anything Sebastian had tried before. One of his more athletic and agreeable dormmates, Diggory, had clearly had many years of flying experience before Hogwarts. Seb tried to emanate the other boy's actions at first, managing to stay on his broom at least whilst some of the muggleborns tumbled to the ground, but grew frustrated at not having a fluidity in the air that many of the purebloods did.

Sebastian persevered with old school brooms until he could imitate a number of moves used by his more experienced peers. Diggory made a few comments under his breath about 'unsportsmanlike behaviour' during their flying lessons and Professor Hooch, their no-nonsense instructor, dryly commented that Sebastian might be beater material in the future, but only if he could abstain from hitting other students with his limbs and bat instead of the intended balls.

Jim pretended not to be interested in quidditch, but he would on warmer days sit out on the stands to watch Seb fly and shout out advice of varying levels of helpfulness and tact. When in a good mood the older boy could be persuaded to charm bludgers to test Sebastian's increasing ability to stay on his borrowed broom.

Quidditch was a fast, dangerous sport, and Seb supposed he might get on better with his housemates if he could master it sufficiently to make the Hufflepuff team in a year or so. It was frustrating to see the downright dirty tactics displayed by the Slytherin quidditch team during games applauded and downright celebrated by the students in the Slytherin stands. The Hufflepuffs only played fair, and that wasn't fair to Sebastian at all, and was clearly why they lost so many games, in his opinion.

His characteristics would have been better served in Gryffindor, students and staff of all houses commented throughout the school year. Sebastian wondered when he would grow into his alleged house traits, and asked Jim, who snorted uncharitably and pointed out that Seb had become his personal shadow over the school year.

Sebastian had shoved the smaller boy – not too roughly – and defended, “Well we're best friends, aren't we?”

Jim had given him one of his expansive repertoire of funny looks, this one an odd, unreadable thing, and seemed torn between a casual agreement and a cutting quip. Neither came.

“Don't use an owl to write to me over the summer,” Jim said instead. “I doubt your snooty thing would last two seconds amongst the cretins I live with, and I'll be bored to tears if they shoot it down.”

“You could visit, over summer, if you wanted to,” Seb said slowly. “I could ask my mum-”

Jim made a face of disdain exaggerated enough Sebastian knew he was meant to be able to read it. “I don't intend to be seen as your pet pov, rich boy,” Jim said. “And watch what you write on postcards when you go on holiday; every fucker will try to read it.”

“We don't have to tell them you're poor,” Seb muttered with a roll of his eyes. “I could tell my mum that all your clothes are wizarding styles and you could borrow some of mine-”

Jim's nose made a disgusted little quiver.

“I can do altering charms now!” Sebastian protested. “Or you can do them yourself, clever dick.”

“Just write to me over the holidays,” Jim said exasperatedly. “And do more than the minimum syllabus reading, or you'll fall behind.”

“If you came over you could help me study,” Seb said.

Jim turned on his heel to end the conversation and said dryly over his shoulder, “I'm not doing your homework for you either.” He didn't seem displeased though.

Sebastian followed after him. “You know, if I wasn't raised with such impeccable manners I'd point out that _you_ could invite _me_ to your place.”

“And house you in what space, little Lord?” Jim scoffed.

“You could manage some of those enlargening charms,” Sebastian said confidently. “Or you could shrink me down to fit-”

“Merlin, don't let anyone hear you,” Jim muttered.

“Do you sound like a pureblood when you go home?” Seb asked.

Jim turned and gave another uninterpretable Look then strode off quickly. Sebastian's longer strides made it relatively easy to keep up regardless.

Sebastian kept up his niggling, but Jim did not budge on the refusal to visit. Before long Seb was helping Jim wrestle his trunk onto the storage rack of a darkly-coloured carriage; Jim had offered to use a range of different charms to make the task easier, but Seb had refused them all hoping that this last feat of strength -such as it was, as Jim's belongings were lighter than Sebastian's even with all the books- would somehow endear him to the older boy. And remind Jim that he was exactly as useful as hoped. And put Jim in a good enough mood to write to him during the holidays.

Jim's perplexing mixture of charm and waspishness managed to ensure them a compartment to themselves on the train back to England. Sebastian was particularly content to have Jim to himself, and although the dark-haired lad didn't seem overly enthusiastic about going home (Seb wasn't either, to be honest) Jim did seem quietly pleased with Sebastian's company. He didn't complain when Seb bounded up at the sound of the trolley witch's voice and returned with enough treats for them both.

Jim did however give Sebastian a questioning look when Seb didn't gorge himself as usual. “You can take home whatever we don't finish,” Sebastian shrugged. “We need to fatten you up so you don't disappear before you come visit me.”

Jim's gaze flickered, then he huffed. “We've been over this. I'm not coming.”

“You'll change your mind in a week when you're bored and miss me,” Sebastian said, although he wasn't convinced that was true. Jim gave him another of those strange looks and said nothing, but he reached out for a cauldron cake and shoved it into his pointy little face.

They settled back into relatively comfortable camaraderie until a red-haired prefect liberally dusted in freckles came by to tell them it was time to change out of their uniforms and that shortly they would be approaching the station.

“Heaven forbid the muggles see me in a dress,” Sebastian muttered as the much older boy left. “My old man would have a right fit though.”

Jim grunted, and wandlessly brought down his trunk from the storage shelf overhead. “Turn away, will you?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but got up and faced the door. “Got something I haven't, have you?” he joked.

“Yes; brains,” Jim sniffed, and jinxed Seb when he tried to turn around to argue.

Sebastian sighed and waited. Some of the boys he shared a dorm with were private, but most of them weren't. Jim was especially so, except when he was mimicking or manipulating other people, at which point he seemed to develop an uncanny control over his body that was quite mesmerising.

Seb supposed he ought be grateful he hadn't been sent outside the compartment to wait. “Can I at least get my stuff down just now?”

There was a beat of silence then Jim whispered and Sebastian's own trunk landed with a soft thunk on the seat opposite Jim. “Thanks,” Seb muttered.

Jim grunted again, and when Sebastian finally looked around after shucking off his school things the older boy was dressed in patched jeans and a pullover that emphasised Jim's pronounced collarbone. Sebastian pulled on a smart but crumpled shirt and buttoned it. Jim wasn't looking at him, but Seb felt a tingle of magic as Jim evidently cast an ironing charm on his clothing.

“Thanks,” Sebastian said again.

Jim grunted and busied himself poking some wrapped sweets into the lining of his old trunk.

“Can't you just hex it not to let anyone but you go in there?” Seb suggested.

Jim finally looked at him. He curled his lip and said, “Then I couldn't send you to fetch me anything from it.”

Sebastian snorted. “Like your dorm would let me just waltz in and rummage through your stuff.”

“Why not? You're my pet 'puff,” Jim grinned.

Seb rolled his eyes. “Pets can bite you know.”

“You're too well-trained,” Jim said.

Sebastian grinned crookedly. “That sounded suspiciously like praise. You getting sentimental about leaving me alone all summer?”

“I'm counting the minutes until I can research a transfer to Durmstrang,” Jim said frostily.

Sebastian snorted. “Don't think I wouldn't follow you. I'm not trying to make a new best friend next year.”

Jim blinked slowly. “You might fit in better there. In Durmstrang. You wouldn't be a Hufflepuff.”

“I don't need to fit in,” Seb said. “I've got you.”

“You'd do well making a friend who actually wants to partner with you in your classes,” Jim said uncomfortably.

Seb said, “The only thing I need to improve my life is to see my best mate during the very, very long summer full of otherwise arduous events and a depressing lack of far out, cleverclogs Moriarties.”

Jim wrinkled his nose at Seb. “Fine,” the brunet said, “I'll write you a fucking letter.”

“Really?” Sebastian crowed, although he was kind of sure that Jim would. “Yes!”

“No owl,” Jim reminded him.

“I could deliver it in person,” Seb suggested.

Jim gave him an acidic look. “You definitely wouldn't have made it in Ravenclaw.”

Sebastian laughed. “Fuck you! I'm clever, just not as much as you, evil genius.”

Jim's lip quirked. “'Evil genius'?”

“Oh, you know it's true,” Sebastian said.

Jim hummed, looking pleased. He bobbed his head and threw a sweet into his mouth. “Flatterer.”

“You trained me,” Seb pointed out. Jim gave him an amused look and threw a chocolate frog wrapper at the younger boy.

Jim did write over the holidays. Seb wrote to him first, naturally.


	2. Things Wizards Do

Sebastian made beater by second year. His shoulders had filled out even more over the holidays, and Jim seemed vaguely indignant about their increased height difference. Seb would have been amused, except for how Jim's all-knowing gaze seemed to follow him about with an increased dimension these days. The fine-boned brunet attended all of Sebastian's quidditch games, and although Jim was tiny, Seb always managed to pick Jim out of the crowds.

Not that Jim hadn't matured too. By now the third year Slytherin almost had the hang of completely non-verbal wandless magic. He couldn't always control the _intensity_ of the spells if he was feeling emotionally volatile (Seb struggled with that same problem just using his _wand_ ) and being overtired seemed to make the Slytherin struggle. Jim also sometimes had funks where his magic seemed listless and he had to use a wand to channel it (his own or Seb's, whichever was nearest, and it always gave Sebastian a funny little flip in his tummy when Jim commandeered his). 

Seb couldn't really manage much non-verbal _or_ wandless magic, but Jim practised with him all the same. Seb had command of a few things, like a wandless episky and disarming spell. He liked to protect Jim, and himself, and he preferred to be the one to patch them up when he couldn't. Unless Jim was offering to heal _him_ , which Seb liked so much he sometimes picked fights with his classmates or older boys just for Jim's attention.

Jim was probably smart enough to discern Sebastian's motivation on the days of mindless scrapping, but if Jim noticed, he did not mention it. What Jim did mention was that the whole school seemed abuzz with the knowledge that next year the infamous Harry Potter would join Hogwarts.

“Who?” Seb had asked, and Jim had given him an oddly soft, amused look before explaining. Sebastian's attention lingered on that long after it had been replaced with something more commonplace, and all he had to say when Jim was done with his tale was, “So as a baby he rebounded the killing curse with accidental magic? That doesn't mean he's anything special now.”

Jim hummed and pursed his lips.

Sebastian frowned. “He's not.”

Jim smiled, the mocking sort, but his eyes were fond. “Worried when the strapping saviour of the wizarding world arrives next year you'll be out of a job?”

“No,” Seb huffed.

Jim's grinned widened into something sharklike and playful. “You _are_ ,” he drawled.

Sebastian shoved him, with a bit less delicacy than usual. “Shut up.”

“Now, now,” Jim said, clearly enjoying himself. “The golden boy is sure to be a gentleman.”

“ _I'm_ golden,” Seb said gruffly, his honey tan skin and blond hair attesting to this.

Jim's eyes glittered. “You're yesterday's news, pet. You-”

“ _Jim_ ,” Sebastian urged. He pressed closer, fisting the front of the older boy's robes, but not quite knowing what to do next. He didn't want to hit the brunet. 

There was a flicker of something in Jim's eyes that Seb didn't have a name for as Jim raked his gaze down Sebastian's body. It thrilled Seb all the same, and he was unsure why.

“Touchy about this, aren't you?” Jim said. He sounded pleased, and mocking. Seb didn't know whether to punch him or hex him or… or…

Jim smirked and reached up to pat the side of Sebastian's face. “Never mind. You'll just have to keep proving to me this year that you are the superior model, hmm?”

“' _Keep_ proving'?” Seb asked.

Jim's smile became elusive and he sidestepped Sebastian smoothly. “I only accept the best,” he drawled.

Seb said nothing about the robes charmed to look less shabby, or a million other things that suggested Jim might be lying. “I'm the best,” the blond grumbled.

Jim rolled his eyes. “You're a troll.”

Sebastian looked put out. “You're doing that pureblood thing again.”

Jim gave him a look that may have been amusement or something else. “Fine, darling, you're a grody brute. Is that better?”

Seb frowned softly. “You _want_ me to be a brute.”

Jim stared at him hard for a moment. Seb didn't understand it, but it made him feel hot and cold all over. His skin prickled, but not like it did when Jim managed silent, wandless magic.

“...Yes,” Jim said at last.

Sebastian felt like the older boy was urging him to do or say something more, but he didn't know what. As he floundered, a brief look of disappointment fluttered over Jim's face and he stepped further away.

“What?” Seb asked hurriedly. “What did you want me to say? ...Or do?”

Jim sighed, and sounded genuinely put upon. “You're so dense, sometimes, Seb.”

Sebastian pouted. “If you just explained-”

“You'll do it in your own time or not at all, I'm sure,” Jim said tiredly.

“Do what?” Seb asked in frustration.

Jim pressed his small lips together, grazed his teeth over the bottom one, and sighed through his narrow nose. “It doesn't matter,” he said.

“It does,” Sebastian argued. Jim sighed and moved away again; Seb snatched for his thin wrist and held him there.

Jim made a soft noise in his throat.

Sebastian slackened his grip at once. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Jim shifted his arm but did not pull it away. “Are you offering?”

“Your jokes are never funny, you know,” Seb muttered.

Whatever peculiar expression was on Jim's face melted away into one of indignation. “Excuse you, I'm hilarious.”

“Not if your audience never gets the joke,” Sebastian countered reasonably. 

Jim's expression wavered again. He curled his lip and tried to take back his arm. “It's not my fault you're a chump, Moran.”

Sebastian squeezed the fine bones of the older boy's wrists just enough to prevent Jim's escape. “I'm not a chump. If you could just lower yourself to explain-”

“Sebastian,” Jim said in a low voice, “let me go.”

“Or what?” Seb asked stubbornly.

Jim was oddly silent for a beat. “Or I'll hex you,” he said at last.

Sebastian could feel his magic crackling up inside himself, _thrumming_. He wasn't sure why, but his emotions were heightened and that always threatened to send his unwieldy magic haywire.

He could smell Jim. It was good.

“You won't,” Seb whispered.

Jim stared at him. “I could.”

“You could,” Sebastian agreed. He shivered as he felt the edge of _Jim's_ magic leak out, uncontrolled.

Seb's eyes widened in shock. If _Jim_ was losing rein of his magic, then that meant he felt… _something_ … too… Right?

“Why's it doing that?” Sebastian asked huskily. “Our magic.”

Jim's expression was oddly, briefly, vulnerable, then he looked away sharply. Seb felt a wave of disappointment.

“It's why we can use each other's wands,” Jim said tightly. “It's… compatible.”

“It's always compatible,” Sebastian said. “That doesn't normally mean it...” He broke off, unable to word how the thick waves of it made him feel foggy-headed and warm.

“It'll make sense once you hit puberty,” Jim said, reaching for sarcastic but sounding strained.

“What the fuck is that supp-” Seb started to snap, then paused. “Do wizards do that?”

Jim's shoulders flinched, but he didn't jerk his wrist back from the larger boy. “Do what?” he asked evasively.

Sebastian looked at Jim - _really_ looked at Jim – and slid his fingers down Jim's arm to lace between the other boy's own. They complied, and weren't cold for once. Jim looked flushed.

Sebastian felt hot too, but he started to understand that wasn't just from the exertion of trying to keep his magic from spilling out entirely.

“Does… your magic mean you want to?” Seb asks.

“Do what?” Jim asked quietly.

He really had to say it? “Kiss… and stuff.”

“Does _your_ magic mean you want to?” Jim countered.

Sebastian looked at him. Jim's dark eyes were wide and the pupils blown. There was a tiny spattering of freckles and miscellaneous scars across the Slytherin's face. His cheekbones were prominent and his lips… _His lips_ …

“Only if you want to,” Seb said.

Jim made a frustrated noise. “What do you think?”

“I think I want to slam you into that tapestry and snog you stupid,” Seb said.

Jim gave him a wary, fond look. “Took you long enough,” he mumbled, and squeezed Sebastian's hand shyly. “Go on then.”

A bubble of laughter escaped from Sebastian's chest. He wrapped his free hand around the back of Jim's head – their magic sparked in a way that made them shudder – and didn't so much _slam_ Jim into the wall but instead walked him carefully backwards until his arm was cushioned between the wall, and Jim's body. Figures fled from the tapestry and the stone could easily be felt through the fabric, but Sebastian didn't notice.

He was staring at the look Jim was giving him: guarded but wanting and open-mouthed, breathless already. Sebastian's desire to pull that bottom lip between his own seemed like an actual, physical urge pulling from his chest. 

He lifted the hand twined with his own and pressed it up against the wall. Seb boxed Jim in with his larger frame, knowing Jim with his superior magical prowess wasn't helpless at all, but the illusion served to make Sebastian's mouth water nonetheless.

Jim's breath was warm on Seb's skin. His dark eyelashes fluttered nervously against his lightly freckled cheeks. His magic was heady and electric and _waiting_.

Jim hooked his foot around Seb's ankle through their robes and drew the taller boy closer still.

Sebastian swallowed and dipped his head lower to meet Jim's upturned mouth.

The sparks when their lips connected made them both flinch, but instead of flying apart at the shock of magical energy their clasped hands tightened and their bodies brushed closer. 

Jim gave a soft, slightly impatient noise of encouragement and butted his jaw more firmly against Seb's. Sebastian smiled against the Slytherin's lips, but took his time, travelling over Jim's lower lip with his tongue and sucking on it experimentally. His magic felt like nothing before, and his chest and gut were pooling with heat and he felt like he could smile for miles and Jim's free hand snaked up to Seb's loosely knotted tie and used it to drag him closer still.

Sebastian quivered as he suddenly felt Jim's hot, wet tongue against his own. Delighted and curious, he mapped its surface with his own and pushed against it playfully. He yelped in suprise when Jim tried to bite him, and Jim blinked sheepishly at him for a second before Sebastian smirked and nipped Jim's lower lip in retaliation.

Jim moaned, and Seb could tell from the other boy's expression that Jim was both embarrassed by the fact and likely to be cross if teased for it, but Sebastian didn't care. He was thrilled that he could make the ordinarily constrained older boy make such a delicious noise, and forthwith set about trying to encourage Jim to make it again.

Sebastian's ministrations provoked a growl that was stern but not unencouraging and Seb felt like he was in heaven. Who knew Jim could be vocal without being a sarcastic, insulting prick? This was magical.

Suddenly, Jim's magic sharpened, and the Slytherin tensed under Seb. Sebastian felt bewildered by the sudden change in atmosphere, his own magic still thick and cozy and abruptly out of balance with Jim's. Seb pulled back reluctantly. “Everything okay?” he asked hazily.

Jim tapped Sebastian's shoulder urgently and motioned for Sebastian to push away. “Someone's coming,” Jim said urgently.

“So?” Sebastian grumbled softly, relinquishing only a marginal amount of contact. “If they say anything I'll clock them one. I don't want to stop doing this a second longer than I have to.”

Jim gave him a crooked smile. “Oh really?”

Sebastian beamed and nuzzled Jim's neck, pressing soft, pleased kisses up the dark-haired boy's jaw and ear. “Really,” he purred.

Jim craned his neck, not exposing it to more kisses but to listen for footsteps, then batted Seb's shoulder more firmly. “Seriously. We have to stop. If it's-”

Sebastian pulled back, and felt suddenly cold and bereft at the lack of contact. Jim's magic pushed out at his, as though to deliberately comfort, and Sebastian was so transfixed by it he almost didn't notice that he could now hear footsteps too. Far closer than he had realised.

“Well, well, well, we are in trouble,” announced a wheezy, malignant voice.

Jim peeled away from the wall slowly and looked willing to melt into the shadows if possible. Sebastian stepped before the other boy defensively. This was the late seventies, and in the non-magical world this sort of thing could get you beaten or dead. But Jim had said wizards did it…

“Canoodling!” the school caretaker, Filch, announced harshly. “In the corridors! Out of bounds! Oh, this won't do at _all_.”

Ah, yes. Sebastian was so used to exploring forbidden places with Jim that he had quite forgotten this particular corridor was illicit. Seb had gotten quite a few detentions for trespasses already – Jim less so – and he already knew Filch was the worst: a nasty, cantankerous old sadist who took glee in doling out punishments and was only sorrowful they couldn't be harsher than what the headmaster allowed. Jim had warned Sebastian in his first year of Hogwarts that Filch kept polished manacles hanging from his office ceiling in the hopes of finding a way to use them on students without Dumbledore's protest.

Jim made to pull a bit of parchment from his pocket. “I've got a pass,” he said mildly.

“Oh a _pass_ , for necking in the corridors is it?” Filch sneered, fixing his pale eyes on the Slytherin. He shuffled forwards menacingly. “And does it cover your buff, older boyfriend here too?”

Sebastian felt something twist in his stomach at being called Jim's _boyfriend_. He did not notice the withering look Jim gave at the insinuation that he looked younger than a second year (which he did, technically, given that Seb looked to be at least a third year).

Seb also almost did not notice that Jim had wrapped his fingers around his wand beneath the parchment. The older boy whispered a spell Sebastian did not recognise, and then Filch's malignant expression froze. The caretaker's saggy jowls dropped slackly, and a vacant look printed itself upon Filch's worn face.

Jim stepped forwards. “You will leave now, and go skulk around the astronomy tower for students to annoy. You will remember nothing of this interaction.”

Filch's milky eyes blinked, then he stepped past them and shuffled off in the direction suggested.

Sebastian breathed out shakily. When Filch was safely out of sight the blond asked, “What did you just _do_?”

“Imperium,” Jim said. “It's like imperio, but less potent, so it's not an Unforgivable and isn't monitored. Filch is a squib, so he can't fight it.”

Sebastian shivered at the power. “I don't know whether to be scared or turned on.”

Jim rolled his eyes and stepped out of Seb's reach. “One kiss and suddenly you have a libido,” he muttered.

Seb gave him a sidelong look. “My roommates would tell you there's nothing wrong with that part of me, thank you very much. If anything they'd tell you I spent too much time with my bedcurtains pulled.”

Jim scoffed. “From virgin to exhibitionist just like that.”

“Depends whether I've remembered the silencing charm, or got enough concentration to hold it once I'm underway,” Seb admitted playfully. Jim's lips twitch despite the brunet's best efforts. He was a teenage boy too, after all.

Sebastian moved closer to Jim and the Slytherin didn't move away. Seb risked drifting his hand back towards Jim's own, and when Jim did not pull away, Sebastian twined their fingers gently together.

Jim jutted out his jaw as though about to rebuke, but squeezed Seb's hand with his own instead. Sebastian beamed without meaning to. Magical charge rippled up their arms.

“Can we kiss again?” Sebastian asked hopefully.

Jim gave him a long, silent look. “But not here,” he said, in lieu of a direct 'yes'.

“I thought you said he couldn't fight your spell?” Seb questioned, looking over their shoulders at the direction Filch had sloped off in.

“He can't, but...” Jim shivered. “I feel uneasy here now. Let's go.”

“Okay,” Sebastian said, and he squished Jim's small hand in his own hoping that Jim would feel the flip in his chest that it gave Seb himself. “Lead the way.”

Jim's gaze flitted briefly towards Seb at the gesture and he flashed a guarded smile. The Slytherin's slim shoulders were tight now, nervous.

“You said wizards did this sort of thing,” Sebastian said quietly.

“They do, and so do muggles,” Jim said. “But a lot of the people with muggle parents don't like it, it's not legal here in Scotland, and obviously it's only been legal for about a decade in England. For adults. If word gets out…” He pressed his lips together. 

“If anyone has a problem with you I'll flatten them, kiss or no kiss,” Sebastian said. “You know that.”

Jim flashed a shy smile. His fingers twitched in Sebastian's hand as though briefly compelled to hold Seb tighter.

“And none of the muggleborns or half-bloods can hold a candle to your hexes,” Seb added. “Most of the purebloods neither, and they've been practising for years longer.”

Jim kept walking, but looked at Sebastian carefully. “Some of the purebloods are funny about it too. But the rules are different.”

“There are rules?” Seb said.

“There are rules for everything,” Jim said. “Bloodlines matter here, remember? Some closet buggery is one thing, but marriages and heirs are all-important. Especially given how little there are of us after the war. You know how many unused classrooms there are.”

Sebastian had honestly never thought of the last part. “Marriages are pretty important in my background too.”

Jim snorted. “So you're doubly aware that we need to be careful then.”

Sebastian frowned. He did not want to have to be careful. He wanted to press Jim up against every surface in Hogwarts and snog the face off of the boy. But Jim was a delicate little bloke - his vicious duelling skills notwithstanding – and Sebastian wanted more than anything to keep Jim safe. Even enough not to keep kissing Jim despite the urgent desire feeling almost as strong as that to keep filling his lungs with oxygen.

They navigated their way out of the forbidden corridor together. They walked closely, their linked hands obscured by the fabric of their robes.

Nonetheless Jim instantly let go of Sebastian as a patter of footsteps suggested the approach of others. It was only a pair of little first years, red-headed Gryffindors grinning with mischief at exploring illicit parts of the castle. They gave Seb and Jim a wary look (Sebastian being ginormous and Jim being a Slytherin) but saw nothing strange about the older boys. Hufflepuff – Slytherin friendships were common, with Hufflepuffs having an overabundance of affection and Slytherins generally being hungry for it. The tiny Gryffindors scurried past Jim and Seb and continued on their lark.

Sebastian stepped closer to Jim again; not so close that their skin brushed, but enough that their magic buzzed together comfortingly. “Where are we going?” Seb asked.

“My common room,” Jim said. “Less muggleborns around, and it's big enough we'll be able to find somewhere quiet.”

Sebastian made a face, as the Hufflepuff common room was 'cozy' to say the least – it resembled a burrow and was overrun with students at any time of the day or night.

“The other houses shrunk their common rooms to accommodate the smaller student numbers,” Jim said. “We didn't. All the extra space is... stately. Luxurious.”

“As luxurious as one gets in a mouldy, damp dungeon,” Sebastian said dubiously. His badger's set was cozy despite being underground, but Hufflepuffs were generally known for making any space seem welcoming. Slytherins were an entirely different animal.

“It's not like that in the common room itself, or the dormitories,” Jim said. “It's just cold, unless you're near one of the fireplaces. The rooms were never built to be so empty. And it's underground next to the lake, so obviously there's never any genuine sunlight.”

“For the elite of the wizarding world, Slytherin are not much into location, are they?” Seb commented dryly.

“Like your manor house isn't likely decaying opulence?” Jim said. “I hear the roofs are always a problem.” 

“Mum keeps them charmed,” Sebastian said. “That might be why my father married her, actually.”

Jim snorted softly at the joke although he recognised the less amusing undertone. No one he lived with outside of school term had had a particularly cheery home life, after all.

When Jim led Sebastian down the marble steps towards the door beside the Great Hall that houses the stairway down to the Slytherin common room entrance, the nearby portraits didn't seem surprised. Jim supposed that they ought to, given that Slytherins were warned never to invite others into their common room and there supposedly had not been an outsider within for more than seven centuries. Perhaps that was a fib, or the portraits were just overused to seeing them together. Jim did not mention it to Sebastian but eyed the picture frames curiously. 

Seb followed Jim to a bare wall he was familiar with having been friends with Jim for two years now. He had never seen beyond the entryway though. 

Jim took Sebastian's hand and squeezed it, muttering, “ _Obscuro_.”

Sebastian felt magic course up his arm and envelope him entirely.

Jim tapped the wall and declared, “Prestidigitation.”

“Sleight of hand?” Sebastian said.

Jim's lips quirked as the stone reassembled itself to produce a concealed doorway. “A Hufflepuff with a vocabulary,” he commented, amused. 

“My mum's French, and I had Latin lessons before coming here,” Sebastian said.

“Toff,” Jim said, sounding more fond than mocking. “It can also mean skill or cleverness in deceiving others, and you know how us snakes like our little jokes.”

“I suppose you ought stop talking to thin air if you don't want to be the butt of any,” Seb murmured.

Jim smirked and tugged Sebastian through the doorway. The enchantment remained on Sebastian's person, hiding him from the sight of any Slytherin students scattered around the dark green Chesterfield sofas and the dark wood, carved chairs near the ornate fireplace. Sebastian eyed the large snake emblem above the mantle, but his attention was quickly drawn to the almost ceiling-high wall of glass which evidently looked out into the murky innards of the Great Lake.

Jim tugged Seb away wordlessly and the low ceilings hung with green lamped chandeliers gave way to more generous heights built from the same stone as the entrance. Jim continued on past a medieval tapestry full of figures clad in green and silver and to a large, darkwood bookcase which concealed another staircase, which this time led upwards. Sebastian began to consider that Jim's skinny frame was the result not of malnutrition but of tackling so many stairs every day.

The stairs eventually opened out into a plateau above a private library, too expansive to be considered a minstrel gallery proper, but even Sebastian and his love of words had none for the impressive space. Below was a veritable treasure trove of aged books and rolled parchments. Filling the room with an eerie glow were numerous ceiling-high windows studding the space with the same shipwreck-like sea green. Unlike the main area of the common room however, these windows were not partially obscured by patterns of stained glass edging in green and silver. There windows were wide sheets of unencumbered, magical glass.

Jim cast a silencing charm around them both and cancelled the obscuring charm on Seb. The blond shivered as Jim's spell melted from his body.

“We won't be disturbed here,” Jim said. “Most people can't be bothered with the stairs. And down there is so saturated with water-repelling charms that no one really studies there – they take their books and go.”

Sebastian finally took his gaze away from the enchanting new perspective of the lake. “Privacy, eh?”

Jim's lips twitched shyly. “You going to ravish me, Basher?”

“If you ask nicely,” Sebastian murmured. He approached with a smile and bravely moved in for another kiss.

Magic sparked along them both once more. Seb felt its thick but pliant pressure all around him like being submerged in warm water. It felt better than getting his own wand. It felt better than making the Hufflepuff quidditch team. It felt better than arriving at Platform 9 ¾ -after a summer that had stretched out horribly with only letters from Jim- knowing he had an entire term with the Slytherin ahead of him and bubbling with joyous excitement at the thought.

This. This was the best thing he had ever felt.

Jim was smiling into their kiss, a sly curl to his electric lips suggesting he could tell how thrilled Sebastian was and found the fact amusing. Seb didn't even mind being the butt of the joke when Jim was making him feel this good.

Jim grasped the from of Sebastian's robes and dragged the blond down closer to his own height. Seb found himself making an embarrassing noise -largely embarrassing because of the way Jim's lips twitched in mirth against his own- but didn't regret things in the least. Now that Seb was crouched lower, Jim could reach to curl his arm possessively around the Hufflepuff's neck, and Sebastian enjoyed that very, very much. 

Still, his back was uncomfortable now. Sebastian risked sliding his large hands down to Jim's narrow hips, and yanked the slight boy up until Jim's thighs settled against Seb's sides. Jim pulled back from the kissing slightly, a soft, threatening growl in his throat.

“Yes, yes, take a chill pill: you're the boss still,” Sebastian muttered into the side of Jim's kiss-swollen mouth, “but you had me bent nearly in two.”

“That what you think about when you draw your bedcurtains?” Jim asked in a low, huskily amused voice that made Sebastian's belly flip.

Sebastian felt his cheeks flush and knew Jim could feel the telling heat against his skin. Seb deigned not to reply (there was no honest reply to that that would keep his dignity), and instead yanked at Jim again until the Slytherin's legs were more securely settled around his waist. The added benefit of cradling Jim's bum through the boy's robes possibly added to Sebastian's colour, but not from embarrassment.

Jim snapped his legs tighter around Seb (not remotely hampered by his voluminous robes) and smirked. “That wasn't a 'no', Bash.”

Sebastian bravely bit Jim's lower lip. Upon release, he grinned at Jim's unconvincing faux outrage and said, “No talking; only kissing.”

Surprisingly, Jim only laughed in a tone that Seb would swear sounded genuinely warm. Jim said nothing, and kissed Sebastian fiercely, and Seb felt his magic swell and fizz and crackle and… Jim's magic did the same.

Sebastian was unsure when they finally disentangled, but it happened in stages; after eventually exhausting kissing, they stayed in a warm embrace, periodically dotted with soft kisses to each other's necks and faces, and then eventually Jim settled his chin in the crook of Sebastian's shoulder and kept it there. It seemed like a lifetime passed around them before Jim squirmed restlessly and began to reluctantly push away. The pair had stayed together long enough that Jim's slight weight had left Seb's strong arms aching a little, and his legs felt like jelly beneath his robes. Jim hopped down awkwardly, his hips evidently now stiff.

Sebastian stretched. His chest didn't feel big enough for the emotions he now contained, but he dared not speak of them.

Jim's gaze looked soft, almost sleepy, and his magic seemed uncharacteristically wispy and unfocused as it drifted out into the library below unchecked.

“Now what?” Sebastian asked mildly.

Jim's lips formed the beginnings of a _tempus_ charm, but his concentration was clearly unfocused and after a moment he fished in his pocket for his wand. He took a deep breath, some of the softness of his expression disappearing from his face as he focused in a way that hurt something in Seb's heart, and then Jim cast the encantation.

The time appeared before them and Jim's nose wrinkled in distaste as he winced. “I should get you back to your dorm,” he said. He straightened his posture and started to look more like the reserved, older boy that Seb was used to.

Sebastian grimaced back. “I guess,” he said reluctantly. “You don't have to walk me,” Seb said, although he certainly did not want to leave Jim's company yet. “There's no need for you to risk a detention.”

Jim gave his a wry look. “I thought you saw my method of getting out of those?”

Seb didn't dare point out how long it had taken Jim to cast a _tempus_ even with the use of a wand. “You use that often?” he said instead, although he already knew the answer.

“Do I get as many detentions as you do?” Jim scoffed.

“No, but you're sneakier,” Sebastian said. “And you think things through.”

Jim gave him a vaguely amused look. “One of us has to be the brains.”

“I think you'll find I am carrying us in the looks and brawn categories,” Seb replied dryly.

Jim snorted, unoffended. “You didn't seem to mind kissing my face off.”

Seb's lips twitched. “I'd like to do it again, in fact.”

Jim gave him a long, intense look like he could just devour Seb at any moment. “Well you've had your fill for tonight,” he said at last. “It's long past your bedtime.”

Sebastian gave the older boy an unimpressed look at never letting him forget their small age difference. “Don't start unless you're offering to tuck me in.”

“Dream on, virgin,” Jim said less cuttingly than usual. He held out his arm. “Come on.”

Sebastian reached to take Jim's hand, but the older teen gave him a funny look before clasping their fingers together. With Jim's other hand, the Slytherin tapped Sebastian and incanted, “ _Obscuro_.”

“Anyone would think I'd gotten under your skin,” Sebastian said smugly.

Jim gave the younger teen's hand a warning squeeze. Sebastian shivered as Jim growled in a soft, intimate voice, “ _Behave_.”

“Yes, boss,” Seb answered quietly.

Jim squeezed their hands tighter again, this time in reassurance, then turned and tugged them towards the stairs.

If the few Slytherins lingering in the main common room (all older, their noses in their books in fear of exams) considered Jim leaving the dungeons at such an hour to be questionable, they did not bother to say. They certainly did not seem to notice that Jim and Seb's magic was all jumbled together, but then, not everyone seemed to notice other people's magic keenly. Perhaps if you grew up in a magical environment you were used to having it around you and didn't reflect much on it.

Jim's smaller fingers remained within Sebastian's own during the walk to the Hufflepuff common room. The touch sent small tingles right up Seb's arm and he wondered if touching a person who fascinated you so _always_ felt like that.

Jim might know, given that Jim knew a bit about everything, but Sebastian didn't want to ask him.

For once coming up the stairs from the dungeons only to go back down to the Hufflepuff warren didn't seem like much of a hardship. When the boys came within sight of the kitchens' portrait they slowed their steps without mentioning it. Lingering seemed preferable to the looming goodbye.

“Kiss me goodnight?” Seb asked a little breathlessly.

Jim rolled his gaze over the taller boy in slow silence. “We'll get caught,” he said.

Sebastian made a point of looking around, then moved closer in a move that could be construed as seductive as well as protective, he thought / hoped. “No one's around,” Seb said.

Jim gave him a skeptical look and pulled back his hand before pushing Seb away. Sebastian's face barely had time to register the hurt before Jim muttered, “I'm not saying no; I'm trying to get you out of my space so I can try to feel for anyone in the corridor.”

“Your magic feels all funny too?” Sebastian asked.

Jim gave him a sour look that Seb did not understand. “Yes,” the Slytherin said tightly.

“Why's it doing that, if it's compatible?” Sebastian asked.

Jim flashed the other teen a glare that simmered, but after a moment of fierce scrutiny accepted that Seb's question was guileless. “Because it likes it,” Jim said reluctantly. “It knows it's the same, and wants to meld together.”

A thoughtful frown marred Sebastian's face. “Is that what it's doing? Smushing together?”

Jim took on a look of concentration; the one he used when focusing on his magical core. “It still knows it's separate. If we kept apart it would stay distinct.” He opened one eye in Seb's openly worried direction. “I didn't say I was casting you asunder.”

“What happens if we keep seeing each other and it meshes?” Sebastian asked.

Jim shrugged, although his face suggested the answer was not as simple as what he was about to say on the matter. “Then we'd both have access to our combined pool of magic, I suppose.”

“Is that normal?” Seb asked.

Jim shrugged evasively again. “If people are compatible. Happens a lot with twins. Like those little firsties we saw earlier? Their magic was all mashed and tangled together.”

“And couples?” Sebastian found himself enquiring carefully.

Jim looked uneasy, but nodded and muttered, “If they're well matched.”

“We're well matched, aren't we?” Seb said mildly.

Jim gave him a Look. “It's past your bedtime.”

Sebastian glowered. “You are _barely_ older than me.”

Jim smirked at him. “Do as you're told, Sebby.”

Sebastian blinked then smiled and crossed his arms. “Not until I've had my goodnight kiss.”

Jim scoffed. “You have had plenty tonight.”

“So what's one more?” Seb challenged.

Jim rolled his eyed, then snatched for the front of the Hufflepuff's robes and pulled Sebastian down. Jim gave Seb a firm, brief, kiss, then shoved the blond in the direction of the common room. Their magic swelled in giddy waves around them both.

“I'll see you in the morning,” Jim said with finality.

Sebastian grinned and could not help but reach up to lightly touch his own lips. “Yeah, okay. Cool… cool beans.”

Sebastian tapped out the rhythm to his house founder's name against a barrel. He was surprised his fingers got it right first try when he felt like he was floating, his limbs not entirely his own.

Seb expected the other boy to melt back into the shadows the moment he turned towards the entrance, but Jim hovered instead until Seb was past the threshold. It felt nice.

“Goodnight, Jim. See you on the flipside,” Seb said quietly.

Sebastian waved and Jim gave him a not-very-convincing sneer before nodding and trotting back towards the dungeons. Seb touched his own lips again. His knees felt kind of wobbly and his magic felt all over the place.

Sebastian drifted through the common room reliving the past few hours. The common room was largely empty, but the fire still crackled away merrily, the flickering flames causing the dancing badgers carved into the mantle to look animated. The fire never doused itself unless all Hufflepuffs were abed, and would flicker into life the moment a student who could not sleep decided to approach the common room.

For all his protests about mis-sorting and his lack of his affinity for many of his housemates, Sebastian liked the Hufflepuff common room. It was a cozy, comfortable space with polished light wood and numerous plants; a far cry from Sebastian's family home.

Helga Hufflepuff peered down, goblet in hand, from her portrait above the glowing fire. Her look was knowing, and she smiled maternally down at Seb. “Curfew has been and gone, young man,” she pointed out gently.

Sebastian ducked his head and grinned shyly. “Sorry.”

“No you're not,” his house founder said astutely, but her tone wasn't cross. “First love?”

Seb blinked at her. “Er...”

Helga Hufflepuff's painted eyes twinkled. “That's a yes if I ever saw one.”

“I can't sleep now,” Sebastian blurted. “I'm all… fuzzy. My magic's floaty.”

Helga smiled. “Yes. That's quite a feeling.”

Seb sat on the plump armrest of one of the comfortable armchairs near the warm fire. He chuckled softly, wishing he could bottle the feeling he had and keep it forever. “Yeah,” he chuckled. “Yeah, it is.”

Eventually the portrait of Helga sent Sebastian to bed. He wasn't sure that he could sleep, still, and flopped on his stomach remaining in somewhat of a daze. Seb grinned, touched his lips for the umpteenth time, and pulled a pillow to his stomach.

He had kissed Jim.

Jim had kissed _him_.

Sebastian hugged his pillow to himself and beamed.


	3. Matching With Liars

In the morning, Seb woke to another pillow smacking him in the back of the head. He sat up, feeling exhausted, and twisted to glare at the culprit.

“You'll miss breakfast,” Diggory said.

Sebastian snorted and stood. He was still in yesterday's robes.

His other dormmates eyed him, but said nothing beyond a few half-hearted jeers. He'd gotten more popular since joining the quidditch team this year, but Seb was still considered odd by Hufflepuff standards, and given their alleged propensity towards friendliness, he must be severely lacking in several required qualities. No one was quite ready to congratulate Sebastian on his evident romancing past curfew when his rulebreaking risked their house points. Still, his dormmates keeping their ribbing light was probably better than open and heartfelt antagonism, which Seb had provoked a number of times already (often after a staggering loss of house points).

Sebastian showered quickly and rushed down to the Great Hall in the hopes of seeing Jim before classes.

As usual, Jim didn't appear to be eating. He was sat nursing a drink and bristling at something one of the Slytherin prefects was saying to him. Jim's eyes found Sebastian's as the blond stumbled into the hall, but Seb didn't have a name for the expression on Jim's face. There were rings under the Slytherin's dark eyes far more telling of their late night than Sebastian's own had, but the Hufflepuff barely noticed that. Jim looked… indescribable. Seb's magic felt funny. So did his stomach.

There wasn't really time to talk before lessons, but being in different years they had no classes together, and Sebastian could not wait until lunch. He neglected having his own breakfast in favour of catching Jim leave the hall.

Jim had a headstart, but Sebastian had longer legs. Jim moved his arm out of Seb's grasp before the larger boy could touch him. “Don't,” he muttered.

Sebastian felt something acidic in his stomach. “What?”

“Not here,” Jim muttered. He jerked his head and led them towards a particularly rotund suit of armour that would give them marginal protection from prying eyes. He yanked Seb out of sight by his robes and said a notice-me-not charm aloud.

“You can't touch me right now,” Jim said.

“I wasn't hoping for some early morning tonsil tennis,” Sebastian grumbled.

Jim resented being too short to flick the younger boy on the forehead. “Our magic needs some time to settle, you eejit.” the Slytherin lectured. “I've already had that Holmes pillock sniffing around me this morning.”

“How'd you mean?” Sebastian asked.

“Just him being a nosy bastard; he's too observant by far and I was out after curfew.” Jim pursed his lips together. After the initial stupor had faded to a tolerable giddiness last night, Jim had ransacked the Slytherin library for further explanations on why their little tryst last night had felt so… exceptional. “It's not normal to meet your magical match at this age, if you're not related,” Jim said tightly. “Wizards live much longer than muggles. Our magic's not mature enough yet.”

Sebastian frowned. “So what'd happen?”

“Nothing bad, if we pace it out,” Jim said. He glared over Sebastian's head at the wall, found it difficult not to be drawn back to the captivating sight of Sebastian's handsome face, and disgustedly ducked his head to glower at his own reflection in the suit of armour's sabatons. “Otherwise I could end up having bits of you and you bits of me. Bursts of accidental magic. It'd be a nightmare, and people would notice.”

“People already know we're best mates,” Seb reasoned. “How would they know if there was... anything else... going on?”

Jim took the excuse to whip his head right back up and stared hard at Sebastian. “Other than our blatantly unstable magic or the goofy look you keep giving me?”

“You keep telling me I have the features of a particularly dense troll anyway, what difference will my facial expressions make?” Seb said with a roll of his eyes.

Jim grit his teeth. “Just don't touch me for the rest of the day!” he snapped, then swept under Sebastian's arm and away.

Sebastian cursed exasperated frustration and kicked the wall. So much for his hopes of an early morning snog, or promise of more later.

“Oi, no need for that now, is there?” the suit of armour complained.

“Isn't there?” Seb responded darkly.

Jim wasn't in the Great Hall for lunch, or for dinner, but Sebastian managed to lurk in wait for the other teen by the kitchens and catch Jim that way. “Avoiding me now?” Sebastian demanded.

“It's that or jump your bones,” Jim said peevishly, feeling the bite of his hunger more than usual after the drain of magic awakening the night before.

Sebastian blinked at the boy's uncharacteristic honesty. “Yeah?”

Jim gave him a sharp, incisive, little glare and agitated the still life painting that covered the kitchens' entrance. A number of house elves bustled Jim inside at once, lamenting his bony frame, which was not well hidden despite his voluminous robes. Jim was so out of sorts he didn't even use his elbows to regain some personal space.

Jim was sat down at a wooden table and not asked his preferences before a plate was put before him. The elves were used to the Slytherin's evasive eating habits and found assertiveness the best course of action. It was difficult to argue with several hundred pairs of bulging eyes staring you down at once.

Sebastian was shepherded in with less urgency, but no less grace. He sat down beside Jim and felt torn between hurt and vexation when Jim instantly drew in his limbs to avoid any accidental touching.

The elves serving them eyed the action astutely.

“You is needing to be eating up, Master Moriarty,” one elf told Jim sternly. Sebastian marvelled at its tone, and the way Jim bowed his forehead in deference (even if the brunet did glower a bit). “You is fainting if your core is depleted.”

Jim nodded like this was not news and picked up his fork.

The elf raised its brows at Sebastian. “What is you wanting, Master Moran, sir? You is needing to keep your strength up too.”

“Leftovers will do,” Seb said absently. He was transfixed with being near Jim again. His magic was buzzing agitatedly, urging him to reach out and touch any part of Jim's skin.

The elves made united noises of distress and offered him a variety of fresh meals. Seb barely listened, despite his hunger, until Jim decided on a meal order for him.

Sebastian's gaze snapped to Jim's, and Jim narrowed his dark eyes drolly. “You're stressing them out. They're programmed to please.”

“I don't really care about eating,” Sebastian said.

“You'd better; magical exhaustion burns mega calories,” Jim said. He frowned. “Since when do _you_ not care about stuffing your face?”

“My magic's insisting we're not close enough,” Seb confessed in a mutter.

Jim's eyes widened. “Me too,” he admitted in a low, reluctant voice. “It's too much, too quick. We'll have to pace it, or it'll get worse before it gets better.”

“Can we at least have our pinkies touching or something?” Sebastian asked urgently. “I swear I'll eat. I just feel like I'm going out of my mind already. I didn't concentrate in any of my classes.”

“Me either,” Jim grumbled. “And no, because I feel like I might end up in your lap, and since I'm the one with self-control I dread to think what you'd be compelled to do if your magic felt encouraged.”

Sebastian pushed aside his plate. In a high-pitched voice he said, “That doesn't sound terrible.”

“It will, if our magic ends up conjoined,” Jim said darkly. “Or us, splinched into each other because our magic goes batty and tries to bring us closer.”

“Maybe if we touched we'd appease it,” Sebastian said.

“Don't tempt me,” Jim muttered. He pushed Seb's plate back towards the Hufflepuff. “ _Eat._ The elves are right about exhausting our cores.”

“You didn't have breakfast,” Seb pointed out.

“Was still feeling drunk on magic,” Jim said. Normally he would have pointed out that he was older, superior, and could do as he damned well pleased. From anyone else Seb would have found it annoying.

“That's a thing?” Sebastian asked instead. He shoved food into his face in the hopes it would distract him from the highly uncomfortable feeling of his magic seemingly straining to move his body closer to Jim. It had not felt like this last night, when he was obediently seeking out Jim's mouth at his magic's insistence.

Jim stared at him hard. “If you tell me you didn't feel drunk on our magic last night, Basher, I'll punch you.”

“Threats of physical not magical violence? This must be serious,” Seb muttered. “I've never _been_ drunk – I wouldn't know.”

“My magic has been unstable all day. I could hit your face with a stinging hex and your head might explode,” Jim said darkly. He prodded his food. “Feeling drunk like… you're not fully in control. You could laugh like a simpleton over things that aren't funny, and your coordination is shot but you don't mind as much as you should...”

“And you feel like you're floating?” Sebastian added. “Like you're magic is really happy and boogieing away and it's making you… kinda giddy?”

Jim chewed his lip with a sour expression. “Exactly. All goofed up.”

“You're a goof if you don't think that's the best feeling ever,” Seb muttered.

Jim's cool facade wobbled. “The best, huh?”

Sebastian shot the other boy a look. “You didn't think so?”

Jim whipped his gaze back down to his food. “It… yeah. It was pretty groovy,” he admitted reluctantly.

“So when can touch again?” Sebastian asked. “Or… last night? Do that again?”

“I don't know,” Jim confessed grumpily. He rarely didn't know an answer, and it clearly peeved him a great deal. “I'm not sure how long I can last without, either.”

Seb looked at the older boy sidelong. The prospect of not touching as much or as often as Seb had hoped was terrible news, but something was lightened in his chest by Jim also finding the prospect unsatisfactory. The Slytherin was rarely open in admitting his esteem, much less romantic affection. Sebastian found himself wetting his lips at the thought that Jim desperately wanted more touching too.

“Stop thinking about it or you're going to make things harder on yourself,” Jim said dryly.

Sebastian laughed, and felt a fresh urge to kiss Jim's lovely, pointy, judgy, perfect little face. “How could you tell?”

Jim looked tempted to kick Seb under the table, and put out that he couldn't without magical repercussions. “How do you think?” Jim muttered sourly. “And I mean it, stop thinking.”

“Since when do I think too much for your liking?” Sebastian scoffed.

“Believe me, the irony is not lost on me,” Jim grumbled.

“Prick,” Seb said fondly. 

Jim narrowed his eyes but seemed no more or less annoyed than before. His skinny fingers tapped absently, agitatedly, against the tabletop as he tried to will them not to reach out and snatch Sebastian's own. The close proximity to Seb made Jim's magic the happiest it had been all day but it wasn't _enough_ … He worried that a few days of not touching would leave him physically trembling with the _need_ of it.

Jim sighed. He pushed his plate away to cross his arms and bury his head there with a groan that increased in decibel the more he thought on their situation.

“It's not that bad, is it?” Sebastian said, torn between hurt and amusement. “No one's died.”

“You'll die, if I feel like this for much longer,” Jim said archly without lifting his head from the table.

“Oh yeah, because _that_ will make your magic happy,” Seb snarked.

Jim gave a muffled yell of frustration and stomped his little feet petulantly from underneath his robes. Sebastian did his best to bite back his chuckle, or the realisation that the nonsense made his heart swell. Jim certainly would not be glad of knowing Seb found him endearingly adorable in his little sulk.

“You're breaking foul on me now, you know. Are you jiving yet?” Seb asked instead in a faux-bored voice that fooled no one.

“Oh, bummer for you,” Jim snipped. “Let me be a drag in peace; I'm suffering here.”

“When do I ever let you be a loser?” Sebastian said wryly. “Suck it up and finish eating, eh?”

“I've had enough,” Jim sniffed.

“I can see your ribs through your robes,” Seb said.

Jim lifted his head indignantly. “Well that's fucking doggish. Thank you very much.”

Sebastian pushed the plate back towards Jim. “Stop whining and eat, you miserable little nerd.”

“I'm going to hex your face off,” Jim huffed, “and if the rest of you explodes because my magic is all messed up then that's on you.”

“I'd rather be on you, but I'll settle for you not fading away to a shadow,” Seb said.

Jim lifted his head only to glower in the Hufflepuff's direction.

“Aw come on, funk it out,” Seb cajoled. “No need for the hairy eyeball.”

Jim's gaze simmered. “Why my magic thinks I'm compatible with _you_ is beyond me,” he griped.

Sebastian's mouth felt suddenly dry. “Magic, you said. Not _us_ -”

Jim groaned at a level that made the house elves descend en masse on them in alarm.

“Don't pick at my words,” Jim groused, “they mean jack squat.”

“Now you're just being inky,” Sebastian said, but he wasn't annoyed. Jim could try to be as obtusely opaque as he liked, he couldn't hide how their magic felt… or how their kisses felt.

After eating they lingered at the table for a bit. The conversation was lethargic and somewhat hesitant, but it was hard to be witty whilst fighting the urge to press up against each other until they were one person.

Eventually Jim dragged himself to his feet, looking sulky and reluctant, and ordered Sebastian back to his dorm (in time for curfew). Seb protested, preferring the dissatisfaction of sitting together without touching to the torture of being separated, but Jim would have none of it.

Helga's portrait gave Sebastian a concerned look when he stomped inside the common room. He ignored her and retreated to his bed, where he drew the curtains roughly and sulked for the entire evening. He felt exhausted but could not sleep.

The next morning was frustratingly more of the same. Jim avoided breakfast altogether, so Sebastian caught up with the Slytherin between classes to berate the smaller boy into eating lunch. Jim did so, and seemed caught between resentment and gratitude at the fact.

They ate dinner together in the kitchens again without arranging it, but were glad of the company. “How many days?” Sebastian asked.

Jim gave him a sidelong withering look. “Until what?”

Seb glowered in response. He reached out a finger in Jim's direction until the Slytherin flinched away. “Until I stop feeling like punching everyone in sight. Or, more importantly, _we can ki-_ ”

Jim startled again, and knocked his pumpkin juice over Sebastian. “Shut _up_ you imbecile. And… Not for a while. Just… brushing up against each other should be-”

Sebastian waggled his brows hopefully, although he knew fine well that in reality the other way of taking _that_ phrasing would leave him far from cocky. He was getting far ahead of himself, but he was a teenage boy and he was being screamed at by his magic to suck the face off of the older boy beside him.

“I hate you so much,” Jim disparaged.

“You don't though,” Seb said cheerfully.

Jim glowered. He then lowered his withering gaze to the wet stain down the front of Sebastian's robes, pursed his lips further - his fingers twitching towards his wand- as he remembered that he was not confident in controlling his magic with or without a wand _even for a simple cleaning spell_ because the blasted Hufflepuff had him both seemingly drunk on and in withrawal of Sebastian's magic.

Jim turned and with great pains asked a house elf for help in resolving the pumpkin juice problem. The elf was delighted to comply, but neither teen was overly enthused with the moment. Having both grown up in the muggle world, losing reliance on the innate gift that was their magic -however temporary- felt frightening and frustrating.

“Did you know this would happen when you kissed me?” Seb asked.

Jim shot him a jagged look, although the house elves couldn't care less that the two students had been snogging each other's faces off not so long ago. Worse yet… Jim hated admitting to misjudging anything. He counted few enough virtues amongst his gifts, but he was rather enamoured with his big brain.

“No,” Jim admitted tightly.

Sebastian recognised that he had hit a sore subject, but had to forge on anyway. He blurted, “Would you still-?”

Jim dropped his head back onto the table. “Shut up.” He sighed petulantly then added, “We should have waited.”

“If you didn't know then you didn't know,” Seb said reasonably.

Jim's head shot up and he scowled fiercely at the bigger boy. Sebastian immediately understood Jim to have perceived the comment to be an insult to his intellect, and backpedalled hastily. “I mean that it wasn't your fault!” Seb said quickly. “You said yourself this is all… atypical.”

“It's not common at all to meet your match so early in life, or to have your magic lose its fucking mind so quickly over relatively nothing at all,” Jim said pitifully.

Seb gave the older boy a sidelong look that said he'd punch the Slytherin for calling their kissing 'nothing at all' if not for their current circumstances, and Jim ought be fucking grateful for the restraint, the sod.

Jim buried his face in his arms again before muttering into the table, “If you knew what I'm having to restrain myself doing to you, you wouldn't be making that face.”

Sebastian swallowed. “Care to share with the class?”

“No,” Jim retorted shortly. He swung his legs under the table and resented not being able to kick the other boy for causing such frustration and embarrassment.

“Anything I can do to help?” Sebastian asked quietly.

Jim sniffed. “The only things that would make me feel better have a hefty risk of splinching.”

“I'll do my best not to think about those things,” Seb said, mentally promising himself to think _long and hard_ about those things later within the confines of his closed bedcurtains. “I think I'd probably still fancy you if you were missing some fingers and one of your eyebrows, if that's any comfort.”

Jim's posture changed, but he kept his head down. “You like how I look? Or you mean it makes no difference to you anyway?”

Sebastian eyed Jim sidelong, feeling embarrassment bloom in his gut at having to answer, but finding the question ridiculous given the obviousness of its answers. “Of course I think you're fit,” Seb muttered. “Your eyes are fucking amazing, and you're all pale, and kind of pointy, and just… good, you know? A little fox… And I like the other stuff too.”

Jim lifted his head slowly. “You like… that… I'm… 'pointy'?”

Sebastian swallowed. “Yeah? Well you _are_. All kind of you know… Your _jaw_ and your _elbows_ and your _hips_...”

Jim blinked at 'jaw', found himself lost for words at 'elbows' and, “You've never even seen my hips!”

“Felt them up against me,” Seb explained, blushing. “Feels good, when you're close.”

Jim took that in. “And my fucking elbows?”

“Oh, they're evil, pointy little bastards and you're determined to puncture my organs with them most of the time, but… I like like when you're… close with me? Even when you're trying to hit me you're like… in close proximity, and we're messing around and I just like it, you know?” Seb said quietly.

“When this is all behind us remind me to remind you that you _like_ my skewering you with my 'pointy little bastards',” Jim mumbled. Sebastian laughed fondly, unafraid.

Jim didn't know how he felt about that lack of fear, but Seb's laugh did queer things to his insides. “What else?” Jim asked.

Sebastian's ears grew hot again. “That I like about you?” he said. “You're smart. So clever even just watching you think is… I dunno, good. Wicked. And you're a _dick_ and you make me laugh and I just… feel right around you. Mellowed, but buzzing, all at the same time and… yeah.”

“Good thing you've got your looks, Moran, because you wouldn't be charming the birds from the trees with that smoozing,” Jim said. He mimicked Sebastian's deeper, plummy voice, “You're a dick, Jim, and I like your pointy elbows.”

Sebastian barked out a bright, embarrassed laugh. “ _Fuck you_ , Jim Moriarty. You keep telling me I've got the looks and brains of a troll, but _you_ said you wanted to _climb into my lap_.”

“I said no such thing,” Jim lied primly.

“You're a terrible liar,” Seb said.

“Fuck you; I am an _excellent_ liar!” Jim responded.

Sebastian laughed again. “No you're not; not all the times. Sometimes you're really obvious.”

“Like when?!” Jim demanded, aghast.

“Like when I know you really, really, really want to climb into my lap,” Sebastian said.

“You have no proof,” Jim scoffed.

Seb looked down at the decreased space between them both, and the way the older teen was unconsciously but clearly leaning in. “Don't I?” Seb said quietly.

Jim followed Sebastian's gaze, hissed, and moved back sharply. “Merlin's balls,” he said.

“So what is it you like about me?” Seb asked smugly. “Is it my thighs that make you like my lap so much? They are very muscular. It's all the quidditch.”

“I hate you so much, you turkey,” Jim reiterated.

“You don't,” Sebastian insisted.

“Thank you for being so annoying; you're making it very easy not to want to kiss you,” Jim sniffed.

“You're lying again,” Seb said brightly.


	4. Misfortunes that Befall Us

Sebastian did his best to follow Jim's directions (the older boy was more educated after all) but found the situation increasingly difficult (not to mention frustrating). What could possibly come anywhere near close to satisfying the unquenchable urge to be around and against and upon or underneath Jim? Nothing. 

What was even capable of deriving more than seconds' worth of a momentary distraction from that? Again, nothing, but flying helped more than anything that didn't involve being in Jim's proximity. The Hufflepuff wrote a begging letter to his mother for a new racing broom (which she did buy despite the ridiculous amount of galleons it cost) and threw his energy into practicing flying tricks on it at breakneck speeds. 

This worked reasonably well, until Sebastian fell off of his new broom hundreds of feet from the ground and almost splattered himself. Jim was the only one with the presence of mind to use his wand to cushion Seb's fall.

In theory, that action was reasonable, except for the teeny, tiny factor that was their magic being entirely out of control now that they were resisting what they had awakened.

Sebastian bounced three times off of the ground.

Jim found himself blinking on the quidditch pitch beside the blond from what felt more like accidental magic than anything of conscious will. He was kneeling beside Seb before even thinking to glance at himself for evidence of splinching. Jim had the horrible feeling that the sensation of his having left half of his organs up on the stands and the others writhing in horror was actually a lot more to do with his panic over Sebastian than anything as reasonable as a splinching.

Others came rushing over with shouts of alarm. Jim hated the knowledge that one of them would have to help heal Seb; his volatile magic was too much of a dangerous risk right now to be of any use.

Sebastian looked like a discarded doll in the dirt. The big brute had never looked small in his life, but suddenly he did, crumpled on the pitch. Blood seeped into the disturbed grass, leaving a trail showing where the Hufflepuff had landed the first time, and the second. Jim felt sick.

“Seb?” he whimpered. His magic was distraught around them both, tangling with Sebastian's with frenetic speed, and Jim did not know whether to try to stop it or even if he could. He was scared to even try a simple episkey spell, but Seb was bleeding into the ground and Jim was standing here doing _nothing_.

Sebastian's fingers twitched in a not entirely natural manner. It looked more like a spasm than an intentional gesture.

“Are you okay?” Jim asked. Before waiting for a reply he added, “You're gonna be okay. The others are going to get you to the hospital wing.”

Sebastian's fingers twitched. Jim thought it might have been intentionally. 

The other students finally reached them both. Some ashen-cheeked first years were nudged aside by a seventh year. “I've got my apparition license,” he announced a little breathlessly. “The wards won't let me apparate right into the hospital wing but I can side-along him closer to the castle.”

Jim felt an odd flare of jealousy and forced it back down wherever it came from. He started to nod, but then wondered whether it was even the right thing to do to move Sebastian. This wasn't the muggle world, and spines could be regrown with magic, but was it safe to subject Seb to that sort of buffeting right now?

“No!” said a Ravenclaw girl before the seventh year could do anything. “His magic's unstable; you could splinch him,” she says. “I've sent off a patronus to the castle. A mobilicorpus should do it.”

So saying, she performed a stasis charm on Sebastian to prevent further blood loss, and then lifted him gently into the air with a careful flick of her wand. Jim stood slowly, neither noticing nor wiping away the grass and mud which stuck to his knees and palms. The Ravenclaw frowned at him. “You need to come too. Can you walk?”

Jim blinked, although there was no way he was leaving Sebastian's side right now. “I'm fine,” he said, even though he felt like something had been ripped right out of his chest.

The Ravenclaw parted the small gathering of concerned students and led them both through it. Someone had managed to retrieve Sebastian's broom and they tagged along after the trio, carrying it carefully. 

“Are you muggleborn?” the Ravenclaw asked Jim abruptly.

Jim stiffened. “I'm a half-blood. What's it to you?”

The girl glanced at the other students and took a few surreptitious steps closer to Jim before bowing her head to him and muttering, “Purebloods don't tend to soul-bond at school, unless they're matched with someone who isn't also a pureblood, because they all meet each other regularly as children.”

Jim swallowed. “What's your point?”

“My point is: magic is leaking off of you both in waves, and you _both_ need to get that checked out. Your magic's bonding,” she murmured.

“I'd noticed,” Jim mumbled.

“Not everyone does,” the Ravenclaw says. “Do you understand what a magical match is?”

“In theory,” Jim said reluctantly. “I've read all the books in the library about it.”

“I'll loan you some more,” the Ravenclaw decided. 

Jim blinked. “Thank you?”

The girl shrugged. “You're both probably going to be stuck in the hospital wing for days.”

Jim felt something tighten in his gut, although of course he had seen Sebastian bounce off of the group from high in the air. A muggle would have died on the first impact. “You think he's that bad?” Jim whispered.

The older student gives Jim a pitying look that he doesn't like. “A limb regrows in a few hours. His body will be fine. It's going to take days to pick apart the knots in your magic to get you both in working order.”

Jim froze. “It can be undone? Our bond?”

The Ravenclaw looked horrified. “Oh, they won't do that! No, they'll… unpick the stitches of the fresh bonding as much as they can, and then try to re-weave it at a more controlled pace, in a more balanced pattern. Sort of.”

“The library doesn't mention anything about that being a thing!” Jim said indignantly. “I've been so _worried_ -” He cut himself off, embarrassed by his unfiltered honesty.

“Don't tell Madam Pince her book selection sucks, or you'll never leave the hospital wing this term,” the Ravenclaw said dryly.

Jim nodded quietly, his thoughts starting to work away on what he had learned even though his concentration was broken and unfocused. Sebastian looked awful, and their magic felt a little dizzying.

The mediwitch, Poppy Pomphrey, and Sebastian's head of house were both waiting for them as the students approached the castle. Pomphrey was firing off a flurry of diagnostic and cleaning spells before they'd even brought Sebastian over the threshold.

“The stasis charm was a good idea, Melodia, dear,” the mediwitch said absently. Whatever readings her diagnostic charms gave her made Pomphrey pause and briskly flick some spells at Jim who tensed at the scrutiny.

The mediwitch clucked her tongue. “Well, looks like we'll need two beds,” she muttered. She pointed at the student carrying Sebastian's expensive broom. “His, I presume? Take that to Madam Hooch and get her and the new DADA professor to check whether it's safe to use.”

“Professor D'Caidy,” Pomona Sprout said.

“Right on,” the student said, already booking it out of there, having presumably seen enough gore already.

Pomphrey batted her hand dismissively at the herbology professor. “I've stopped trying to keep up. They change every year nowadays.”

The mediwitch bustled them to the hospital wing and settled Sebastian into a ready bed, dismissing Melodia the Ravenclaw with a curt thanks. Pomphrey cast a ferula charm to heal and bandage the Hufflepuff boy's open wounds, and then a brackium emendo to heal Sebastian's bones. She summoned a blood replenishing potion with brisk efficiency and roused the boy to feed it to him.

Sebastian groaned and shifted in pain. “Fuck, what happened?”

Pomphrey fixed the second year boy with an unimpressed look, but only said, “Apparently you had quite a fall, Mister Moran.”

Jim squirmed and wondered whether to admit his failure to help save the blond, which had caused Seb to bounce so unforgettably upon landing.

The mediwitch softened her voice. “You also appear to be experiencing a premature magical bonding, which will be depleting your energy more than your blood loss which I have managed to contain. Do you know what that is, and were you aware?”

Sebastian pressed his lips together and looked to Jim.

“A little, and yes,” Jim said.

“Do your families know?” the mediwitch asked.

Jim stiffened. “I'm in a… an orphanage. Muggles. There's no point informing them.”

The mediwitch pursed her lips. “I see.” She summoned both boy's medical files with a jab of her wand. “And you, Mister Moran?”

“I'm a half-blood,” Sebastian said. His voice sounded raspy, and sore, and exhausted. “You're better contacting my mum.”

Pomphrey nodded. “Pomona, could you please?” As Seb's head of house departed, the mediwitch looked back to Jim. “You need to have an adult responsible for you present to treat your bonding maladies. Your head of house can sit in with you, if you would prefer not to involve your muggle caretaker.”

Jim nodded quickly. “Please.”

Pomphrey flicked her wand in the direction of the door and fired off a quick patronus to the new potions master, Severus Snape. It took all of her professional restraint not to comment upon the dubious logic of preferring Snape to anyone else, muggle or not. Instead she jerked her wand at another hospital bed, preparing its sheets, and then after casting a critical eye over Jim Moriarty's muddy clothing, performed a cleaning charm over him for good measure.

Pomphrey jabbed a finger at Jim then swiped it towards the fresh bed. “You. Sit.”

Jim did so warily. He did want to resolve the issue with his and Sebastian's magic (especially if it meant they could be around each other without issue, which he fervently hoped it would) but he was mistrustful of authority figures like medical staff. They'd always had a habit of meddling too much or too little so far in his short life.

Pomphrey was running some more diagnostic spells over both boys when Pomona Sprout reappeared from the mediwitch's office, where she had firecalled Sebastian's mother. Lady Moran was in tow, looking incandescent in both beauty and rage. Sebastian cringed on his bed, and the sight of the ordinarily irrepressible blond doing so made Jim very anxious indeed.

Lady Moran's heels click-clacked ominously on the floor as she approached, outpacing Sprout with a predatory swiftness. 

Seb clearly regretted not being in a position to convincingly feign sleep and instead meekly said, “Hi, Mum.” He winced at his ropey voice.

His mother frowned at him, and the Hogwarts staff. “I hear you fell from your broom. What sort of supervised flying was my child performing in the alleged safety of the school-designated flying area that he broke almost every bone in his body?” she asked harshly, turning from her son to the other women.

“It wasn't a supervised flying interval,” Professor Sprout said uneasily.

“And you just let students on their brooms unsupervised at this so-called school, do you?” Lady Moran snarled.

“He'll be no worse for wear for it in a few days' time,” Madame Pomphrey said waspishly. “We have the rather more pressing matter of-”

“This would _never_ have happened at Beaubaxton's,” Lady Moran disparaged fiercely. “I _will_ be raising this with the school board _and_ the ministry.”

“Mum,” Sebastian said mildly in his scratchy voice, “Poppy says the other thing is quite important.”

“ _Injuring my heir_ is quite important, Sebastian Moran!” Lady Moran snapped.

Seb shrank back a little, but jutted out his lower lip in a show of visible defiance that would get him physically chastised were they not in public (and may yet later). The other thing was more important to _him_. 

His magic and Jim's felt all scrambled together, and Sebastian could not rightly tell where his ended and Jim's began. Worse than that, the urge to be nearer Jim made him sort of itchy and restless, despite his sore and exhausted state, but edging closer to the Slytherin made him dizzy. _And_ his magic felt… funny. Scary funny; peculiar. 

...Like he might not be able to use it. Seb thought for a moment about how his magic-hating father would react in glee to having a squib for a son.

Jim felt an overwhelming surge of cold terror that made him grip the mattress beneath him tightly. After a moment the feeling receded, and he realised it did not belong to him. He looked at Sebastian sharply.

Lady Moran looked Jim Moriarty up and down. “This one? Are you certain?”

“Magic and souls interact on a deeper level than logic,” Professor Sprout said gently, not that she had any doubt that the boys were compatible. She'd seen them in each other's pockets often enough.

Lady Moran wrinkled her nose and looked about to say something acerbic when Madam Pomphrey snapped, “Can you not sense it for yourself?”

Lady Moran tossed her nose in the air. “The magic around here is always as thick as treacle; after the more delicate environment I am used to, how can I trust it not to overwhelm my senses?”

Pomphrey looked ready to say something cutting, but Sebastian interjected, “Jim is my best friend.”

Lady Moran paused, and rolled her eyes before turning to her son. “Evidently,” she said dryly. She raked her gaze over Jim again, making the slight boy deeply uncomfortable, and said, “At least he's a Slytherin. If it was a Gryffindor or another bunkum Hufflepuff you would be fetching a whipping in the woodshed like a common urchin, because your father would _ban_ you from his office.”

“Heavens preserve us,” Seb muttered mordantly. His mother flashed him a look of furious warning, and he snapped his jaw shut smartly.

Lady Moran turned back to the staff. “Come then. Tell me what needs to be done with these two.”

Sprout looked at Pomphrey. “We need to wait for Mister Moriarty's proxy guardian to arrive; no point in relaying everything twice.”

Lady Moran narrowed her eyes in a manner that indicated she was used to having everything reiterated to her as often as she pleased, but she looked at Jim and mused, “A Moriarty, in Slytherin? A proxy guardian like that Mountbatten boy?”

Jim found himself snorting although he did not understand the apparent joke. He looked to Sebastian questioningly.

“His head of house,” Pomphrey said, her quick eyes catching both the amusement in young Moran's eyes and the look of fright and confusion on the Slytherin boy's face when _he_ laughed. “Mister Moriarty's magical parent has passed.”

Jim swallowed, mirth instantly gone. He avoided Sebastian's gaze, and felt a rush of vertigo when the Hufflepuff reached across the beds towards him.

Lady Moran batted her son's hand down, and Seb grunted in discomfort as a sudden wave of nausea rolled away. “Stop that, you'll make yourselves both ill,” his mother warned.

“Your wands; where are they?” Pomphrey asked briskly.

Sebastian scoffed ruefully. “I _cannot_ manage to cast right now. I'm not-”

“You certainly ought not be trying to cast right now, _either of you_ ,” Lady Moran snapped.

“No worries of that,” Jim muttered, sounding faint.

Seb fished out his wand. Pomphrey took it and snapped her fingers only mildly impatiently at the Slytherin boy. Jim reached for his own wand and handed it over reluctantly.

He blinked as Seb's wand was pushed into his hand, and he felt Sebastian grip _his_ wand simultaneously.

Both boys breathed out shakily. “Better?” Pomphrey asked smugly.

“Much,” Sebastian said.

Jim felt a flutter of something in his chest and looked around Seb's mum to snap, “ _Still_ no casting!”

Seb's face crumpled mildly. “I was just curious-”

“Yeah, I felt; _still don't_ , do you copy?” Jim said.

“This is basically my wand anyway,” Sebastian grumbled softly.

“Well whose fault is that, cheese weasel?” Jim said. “If you had any self-control you wouldn't _need_ a wand at all.”

“Oh, well we're not all non-verbal and no hands, genius,” Seb huffed fondly. “Don't have a cow, man.”

Lady Moran looked at them both; first at her own reckless but generally unmotivated child and then at the undernourished urchin next to him that looked too underfed to hold up a wand never mind cast such magic. Unsettled, she asked, “You've been doing what?”

“Not all of the time,” Sebastian said. “Well, most of the time for Jim, but he's really good.”

“And older,” Jim added.

“But shorter,” Seb teased.

Jim narrowed his eyes. “Don't make me hex you, doofus.”

“No casting, you said, cat,” Sebastian retorted, eyes sparkling.

“Boys!” Lady Moran and Pomphrey said simultaneously. The two woman looked at each other in momentary surprise, then disguised their discomfort by glowering warningly at the students.

“You're giving Mummy a headache,” Lady Moran said dryly.

“Just wait until we start untangling their magic,” Pomphrey scoffed.

Sebastian pursed his lips. “What does that feel like?”

“Exhausting, but it'll help,” said Professor Sprout with a kind smile.

“We'll still be bonded though, right?” Seb asked in his scratchy voice. “You won't take that away?”

“Of course not!” his head of house answered, aghast. Her colleague also wore an expression of distaste.

“Don't worry; I'm stuck with you, tiger,” Jim teased.

“Good,” Sebastian said stoutly. He yawned. “Because you're mine.”

Lady Moran blinked and looked between them both. “Morans always get what they want,” she said stiffly. It sounded more like a mantra she was repeating to herself than a real interjection into the conversation.

“You tell him, mum,” Seb said comfortably.

Jim rolled his eyes. “Outnumbering me doesn't make you any more in charge, thank you very much.”

Lady Moran gave him a sour look. “It is my understanding that as you are bonded to my son I now have the misfortune of being in charge of you _both_.”

Jim shivered.

Lady Moran glanced towards the doorway. “Speaking of, where _is_ your head of house? If he's any slower he'll be calling when you're both in your bedclothes.”

“Maybe he's making himself presentable,” Sebastian said blithely, and Jim snorted. He covered his mouth as the staff gave him disapproving looks, but it felt good to know he could still laugh on his own without feeling Seb's emotions drifting through him. Not that Sprout or Pomphrey looked to disagree with the joke's insinuation.

“If he doesn't make himself prompt he's going to make himself unemployable,” Lady Moran growled.

“He'll be out of work for a long time then,” Sebastian said.

Jim felt darkly amused when his head of house arrived. Professor Snape was exceptionally young for a Hogwarts professor, much less a head of house. Snape was barely an adult, almost as scrawny as Jim, and recently graduated. The Slytherin head of house position had been held by a Hogwarts potions master for generations, and the tradition had seemingly surpassed the good sense involved in making the decision this year.

Why Snape had taken the professorship at all was a mystery to Jim, and he was ordinarily skilled in unravelling puzzles. The professor was a drawn, gaunt, miserable creature who evidently couldn't sufficiently care for his own wellbeing, much less multiple classes of students. Snape clearly neglected to properly eat or wash his hair, and all of the other professors eyed him with varying levels of pity and mistrust.

Jim actually wondered whether the gangly teenager had actually been ushered into the role after Professor Slughorn's retiral purely to ensure the other professors could continue to see that Snape didn't waste away completely. 

Plus there was the fact that whilst Snape may have an exceptional aptitude for potions, he was an awful, disagreeable teacher. Maybe the headmaster had dropped acid before employing the surly man. Or the teaching staff had a betting pool going on how long Snape would last.

As it was, Lady Moran looked so horrified at the knowledge that the ill-kempt teenager before her was both a professor and a head of house that it would have been hysterically hilarious, except for the fact that the witch was utterly terrifying.

Not that Professor Snape was much better. He gave them all such a hateful look that Jim felt _two_ sensations of unease, and Jim did not know how to feel about being able to feel Sebastian's emotion as keenly as his own.

“Glad you could make it, sir,” Seb said cheekily, and it wasn't just his rasping that made his voice more subdued than usual.

Lady Moran turned to Madam Pomphrey. “Has the headmaster finally misplaced the last of his marbles? That's a little boy!”

Jim and Sebastian both trembled with suppressed laughter, and very much hoped that the man would not take revenge on _them_ for the slight.


End file.
